Alaska - Royal Coachman Lodge

[Woolly Bugger]

I looked long and hard at the email Bob White sent about his annual hosted trip to the Royal Coachman Lodge in Alaska, he had several spots open and hoped to fill them soon. So, I pulled the trigger and sent in my 50% deposit in March, now I was committed.

I didn't need much in the way of gear, I was planning to take a 6, 8, and 9 wt. rods with reels with floating line and extra spools with sink tip, waders, and rubber soled boots.

Since this is a remote fly in/out lodge, they suggested Medical Evacuation/Trip Cancellation insurance. 

I went ahead and purchased my tickets to Anchorage to arrive the night before our charter to Dillingham and then the flight in the Beavers to the lodge. I used my Marriot rewards for the overnight stay at the Airport Courtyard Hotel.

All summer long the trip seemed to be in the distant future, but then the balance for the trip was due, along with alcohol orders. Panic began to set in two weeks before the flight and I began to gather everything to pack. I even called up to speak with Bob, who calmed my fears and I did a trial pack and then cut out a few items.

Five days before my flight I had everything ready to do the final pack. That's when I planned a float trip on the Thursday before my Saturday flight. That left Friday to put up the gear from the float and do the final pack, load up the car and head over to Greensboro. It was a bit frantic, but I managed.

Back when I booked the trip I had no clue that I was flying out on Labor Day Weekend! When Ronda dropped me off on Saturday the airport was almost empty. No waiting at TSA at all.

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Transfered planes in Atlanta and arrived in Anchorage around 8, and caught the shuttle to the hotel. Had a snack and crashed. Plans were to meet Bob in the lobby at 8:30...

https://www.royalcoachmanlodge.com/

https://www.bobwhitestudio.com/

[troutboy_II]

This will be fun to read about!  Thanks for taking us along. 

TB

[Woolly Bugger]

Day two started with the hotel buffet breakfast. As I was chowing down, I heard a group mention the Royal Coachman. I said, "I'm headed there too!" They invited me to join their table, and I was introduced to Lou, Mac, and Ben. We chatted about fishing at the lodge while waiting for Bob and the 9:30 shuttle to the airport. Bob joined us and we headed out to the airport to board the charter flight to Dillingham. They weighed all the luggage and we had to step on the scale too.

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The flight was a little over an hour and was uneventful with only minor turbulance.

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Once on the ground we headed into the "terminal" and were greated by the lodge staff and guest waiting to fly back to Anchorage. Luggage was loated in a van/trailer and we crammed into a second van for the 45 minute ride to the seaplane base on Alenknagik Lake.

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L to R; Guest John, Pilot Kevin, and future guide Zeke placing the ramp.

After a brief but through safety presentation we took off on another hour-long flight to the lodge. The planes would make a second trip to bring the luggage.

The Beaver, built in 1952, lifted off from Aleknagik Lake with a confident roar, its floats skimming the choppy surface before catching air.

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As the shoreline slipped behind, the world opened wide — an endless sweep of tundra stitched together by meandering streams that shimmered like silver threads in a patchwork quilt of raindeer moss and sedge.


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Spruce trees, nurtured by the returning salmon stood in scattered ranks, giving way to open flats where caribou trails etched faint lines across the earth.

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Our pilot, Kevin and guest Chris in the co-pilot seat.

The Beaver cruised low, casting shadows on the tundra. The cabin smelled faintly of aviation fuel. We were traveling into the remotness of a roadless land. Everyone was leaning to look out the windows to catch glimpses of this wilderness. Keep a eye out for a bear or moose.

We circled over the lodge to line up on the river and make our landing. Once making contact we powered upstream to the lodge dock.

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We were greeted by the staff and escorted to our rooms, our luggage would be delivered to our rooms shortly.

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A propain stove took the chill off the day and warmed the cabin nicely.

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Appetizers were served in the lodge where we signed waivers.

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The Guest:

Returning for another trip to the lodge were Lou and Mac, retired or semi retired cardiac surgeons, and Ben, who was talked into making his first trip to the lodge. He had worked with the other two but has moved to central PA for the trout fishing and is a working Vascular Surgeon. Larry a semi-retired Veterinarian also returned for his second or third trip. Our intial group was rounded out with John, a retired lawyer and his son Chris, who works in healthcare finanacing.



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Dinner was served at 6 and the next day's fishing schedule was posted. I met the rest of the guest, with the exception of a couple from Dallas, who's flight was canceled, they would be arriving tomorrow.

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After checking the schedule, we all, still in eastern time, headed back to our rooms for a nights sleep filled with anticipation of fish to be caught.

[Woolly Bugger]

Day three. The rain tapped gently on the cabin roof as I stirred awake, the promise of wild fish and wilder country pulling me from sleep. I might have gotten back to sleep for a bit before getting up and heading off to breakfast at 7:00. I can't remember what was served but it was good, filling and a varity; oatmeal, eggs, fresh fruit and plenty of coffee. The plan was to fly out with my guide Jackson, and Anders, who was along for the ride to learn more about the river we were going to fish.

We gathered after breakfast for our assigned planes down by the dock in the rain.

Our destination was the Agulukpak River or Pak for short and the species we were fishing for were Rainbows and Char.

There was a bit of a weather delay and it was around 8:40 before we took off. Kyle, from Colorado and first year at the RCL, was the pilot today. The ceiling was pretty low and at one point were we flew "over the hump" it look like we weren't more than a couple hundred feet above the treetops. It rained on and off most of the day, sometimes coming down pretty hard.

We landed on the lake where the boats are stashed. The guides posted up to "lend an arm" to all of us aging anglers as we got on and off the planes.

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I rigged up and got in the boat and we jetted over to the river, where Jackson cut off my leader and tied on one of his own as he made a bead selection and pegged it above the stinger hook. For those unfamiliar, pegging a bead mimics salmon eggs drifting downstream—irresistible to hungry char and rainbows. The sockeye are stacked up in the riffles and the char and rainbows are right behind them gorging on the egg drop. The guides hand paint their bead eggs and they are sorted by size and color in their boxes.

Jackson jumped out of the boat and slow walked down through the riffles as Anders kept an eye out for fish and acted as my photographer. I caught many many char on the six weight, they put up a good fight and were a blast to catch. The rainbows weren't as plentiful and required sighting as an errant cast would catch a char.

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Here I'm fighting a decent char and if you look closely (follow the fly line to the shore) you can see three bears, momma and two cubs.

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I caught many fish, too many to stop and photos every one, so here is a sampling of a few of the better fish. One char bent the six-weight nearly double before slipping into the net—a bruiser with fire in its belly.

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We did stop and come ashore with the other lodge boat for lunch at the bottom of the one mile section that we fished. Apparently, the sockeye spawn peters out below that point. The guides served up tortellini and a sandwich with chips.

All too soon, despite tired arms and wrist, it was time to head back for the flight to the lodge.

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Back at the lodge, I headed to my room and took a hot shower before gathering for appetizers and dinner.

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The sky was clearing as the sunset and promised a fine day tomorrow.

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We all hit the sack early.

[Woolly Bugger]

Day Four

With only nine anglers in camp, the usual two-to-a-guide setup left me as the odd man out. Bob tried to pair me with Larry on day one, but Larry opted to fish with Ben—so I ended up solo with a guide or two. No complaints there. Today I had Kevin and Anders, which felt like a stroke of luck.

I was on the first flight out, headed for the Allen River and the Northwest Passage from Chauekukuli Lake to Nuyakuk Lake.

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By now, the rhythm of lodge life was second nature: coffee, breakfast, gear up, go. The forecast promised sun, and we lifted off right on schedule.

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The day promised to be sunny and we flew out on schedule.

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Pilot Kevin, head guide Tony, and Zeke were loading the Beaver as I climbed aboard.

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From the front seat, the views were spectacular ribbons of river winding through untouched wilderness.

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We passed over Tikchik Lodge, a larger, more upscale operation that caters to families and hosts up to 26 anglers. A different vibe altogether.

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Tikchick Narrows Lodge.

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As the Beaver's floats skimmed the calm waters of the lake, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. New water. Promised char. The kind of day that makes you grateful to be alive and waist-deep in Alaska.

We transferred to the boat and motored over to the Northwest Passage. The plan for today was to hunt for some large char and rainbows with the eight weight rod.

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Anders is on the lookout, scanning the water.

The challenge wasn't spotting big char, it was getting past their entourage. Each bruiser seemed to travel with a pack of eager "bodyguards," smaller fish that intercepted the bead before it reached the intended target.

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A textbook interceptor.

I finally hooked into a solid fish, big shoulders, heavy headshakes, and fought it as it ran downstream. The fight, with several good runs, lasted for a good seven or eight minutes. I may have put a little too much pressure trying to turn it, and the hook slipped free. Based on the flash and the fight, I'd call that my third fish over 30 inches...

Nevermind, there are more fish to be caught and after catching and releasing a half dozen smaller fish, I connected with another big boy.

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Taped at 31 inches.

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I might look stoic, but trust me—I was grinning from the inside out.

A few minutes later... (actually after lunch)

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These fish don't just run, they charge. Headshakes, surges, and that electric tension in the line that keeps you honest. Every catch felt earned.

We worked a skittish rainbow, they were trickier. This one wouldn't hold steady, and its erratic movements made it a difficult target. We spent some time working it before taking a lunch break. My arms were tired and my wrist sore but I wasn't ready to quit.

After lunch we motoring off across the lake to see what was up on the Allen River.

There weren't as many fish up there but we caught a few.
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If I remember correctly this fish didn't break the 30 inch marker, coming in as a measly 28,

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Eventually, the call came to head back. The flight home was quiet, the kind of silence that follows a day well spent. Back at the lodge, a hot shower and a cold drink set the stage for dinner.

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No complaints about dinner.

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The next day's schedule.

[Woolly Bugger]

Day Five -- Weathered In, But Not Washed Out


The forecast looked grim, and sure enough, the skies delivered: cold, wind, and a steady downpour grounded all fly-outs. That meant "fishing local"—fortunately, the Royal Coachman Lodge sits right on the river, with rapids above and below that offer solid options when the weather turns.

I was lucky to draw Tony as my guide. He knows this stretch like the back of his hand. John and Chris opted for a zero day, Kevin and Laura headed below the falls, and Ben, Mac, and Lou worked the water just downstream from the lodge.

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After breakfast, I met Tony at the dock, and we motored upstream to the top of the rapids near Tikchik Lake. Boulders broke the surface, and Tony pointed out that big rainbows often hold in front of them. He tied on a Morrish Mouse, and I began casting with a slow-strip retrieve. One hefty rainbow followed the fly, creating a wake that got the heart racing—but it didn't commit. Still, seeing that chase was electric.

We moved downstream and, to Tony's surprise, I landed a grayling on the mouse. Not your usual topwater taker, but it made for a good story. We switched to sinking line and weighted streamers. A few more grayling came to hand, and then—on the swing—I felt the tick-tick-tick of a take. I lifted the rod tip. Fish on.

It was a good fight in the strong current with a couple of leaps that made it even more spectacular.

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We fished through the morning until lunch around 1:00. The tally for the day was five rainbows and a half dozen greyling.

Back at the dock, the rain was still coming down hard and the wind had picked up. Tony asked if I wanted to head back out after lunch. I told him I'd decide after a bite.


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Two beers later, I called it: the day was done. I wasn't going to top that 28-inch rainbow.

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Back at the lodge, Jen—the chef—was in her kitchen working magic.

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Bob spent the day painting. Autumn Dawn on the Negukthlik River was coming to life.

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Later, we gathered in the lodge and debated the age-old question: "Who's the greatest guitar player of all time?" Clapton, Prince, Stevie Ray, Hendrix, Page, Beck—we made our cases, laughed, and agreed to disagree.

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After dinner, the next day's schedule was posted

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We all turned in early, grateful for warm cabins and the kind of day that reminds you -- even when the weather wins, the river still gives.

[troutboy_II]

You think he'll come back? 

Wow!  Just Wow!

Good for him 

TB

[Phil]

Thank you Woolly.   

[Woolly Bugger]

Day 6, Part 1 -- Frequent Flyer Without the Miles!

I was scheduled to fly out with Kevin at 7:50 to fish the Grant—a smaller stream that offered a mix of boat and wade fishing. But a low ceiling and steady rain delayed our departure to a tentative 8:30.

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We eventually took off, the pilot double-checking my seatbelt and giving it an extra tug. "It's going to be bumpy," he warned. He wasn't wrong. As we climbed just a couple hundred feet above the treetops, the clouds thickened, and the visibility dropped. After only 12 miles, we turned back.

Back at the dock, Kevin said we'd give it another shot in about half an hour. The sky cleared just enough to tempt us into a second attempt—but we didn't make it any farther than the first time. Another aborted flight. I joked that I'd officially joined the Beaver's Frequent Flyer Program.


With our flight being the first of the day, and others waiting on my drop-off to proceed, the lodge staff regrouped and asked if I was willing to fish "local" again.

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We were getting the boat ready when they decided to add me to Larry and Ben's trip to the Mountain Lakes. I didn't have my 8 weight on me, so the guide ran up to my room and fetched it.

The three of us along with Andrers, Kevin, and Zeke took off once more. Up and away in a different direction the skies cleared, and it promised to be a sunny day after all. It was a specular flight with mountains with snow covered peaks dotting the wilderness.

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to be continued...

[Woolly Bugger]

Day 6 continued...

We got out of the plane and got our gear ready while Kevin scouted the creek. In the meantime, we rigged up the eight weights with split shot, weight, and bobber.

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We waded out into the lake to where it dropped off, we could see some sockeye and were told that the char would be cruising by on the drop off. Cast, let it sink to a count of five, and then slow retrieve. The three of us were lined up in the lake, Larry was the first to hook up. I think a greyling first, followed by a char. I caught nothing. Kevin came back and took Ben to the creek to sight fish for char.

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It didn't take Ben long to hook up with a big char. We all gathered to watch the fight.

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Kevin took me upstream and put me on a fish that was on the far bank. For me it was a difficult cast, under overhanging branches, and it took a while to get the necessary drift. The guide called out "Set!", but I was late and missed the hookset.

He spied another fish up close to a logjam; it looked like trouble once it was hooked. After several casts, I hooked up, at first the fish ran out and across the creek, but trouble began when it ran back and tried to get into the logjam. I had to keep pressure on the fish and run upstream through the log jam keeping the rod high to avoid the line snagging the trees. Then the fish went downstream, and I had to reverse down through the logs. It was a bit frantic, but once clear the fight was easier as the fish tried to run into the lake. After several minutes Andrew netted the fish.

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We weren't the only fishermen on this lake.

Ben, Larry and I all caught some nice char sight fishing for them on the creek, but once that played out, we took a lunch break.

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The guides decided that we should fish the drop off for a bit and then take off to another location

I waded out to the lake's drop off. This time, the fish were there for me and I caught a greyling, and took a photo of Zeke holding the fish.

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Then I started catching char, one after another, it was almost stupid fishing.

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I was really getting into the action, when the guides said it was time to take off to the next location. I thought we were breaking the cardinal rule, "Don't leave fish to find fish!"

Getting in and out of the Beaver was getting routine now and I could slide into the co-pilot seat without any problem, in the past my shoulder would hit the door frame, and it took a few trips to remember to twist my torso as I climbed aboard.

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We landed at another creek on the lake and set up casting into the outflowing current.

And I began catching fish, big fish, big beautiful char. I caught a few that took me into the backing and I tightened the drag on the Ross Evolution 3.5, but it still wouldn't slow the fish down. I had to palm the reel. (Upon return, I've sent the reel, along with the $30 fee, back to Ross for servicing).

We released a number of fish before I caught this one, Anders wanted to measure it, but I just wanted to catch another one. Later back at the lodge Anders would lement that we didn't tape it, as he thought it might have gone over 30 inches

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Then Ben caught this stunning char if full spawning colors, it taped at 32 inches!

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The it was time to leave, we all had sore arms, but still were reluctant to leave when the call came.

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Here is a look at the lodge from above.

Bob had finished up another Alaskan landscape. We had dinner, made plans for tomorrow, only two more days of fishing left.


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[Woolly Bugger]

You cannot view this attachment.

Believe it or not!

[dublhaul]

After reading your reports and seeing the photos, sitting at home watching Sunday night football has just been made less enjoyable.

Nonetheless, keep 'em coming.  Far better than football!!

Some terrific fish.  And the scenery ain't too shabby either!!

[Big J]

Bet you don't regret that trip! Looks like a heck of a time! 

[trout-r-us]

Nice!
Thanks for sharing.

All those Char and none on the menu? 🤔

[Woolly Bugger]

Day 7 -- Change in plans.

The plan was to fly to the coast for silvers, but one of the Beavers was due for its 100-hour certification, and weather had delayed the mechanic's arrival. Bob came out looking concerned and broke the news: I'd be fishing the Pak again.

I was a bit disappointed, but Bob encouraged me to throw a mouse early—maybe a big rainbow would oblige. My guide for the day was Andrew B., one of the younger guides at 23, fresh out of Oregon and full of energy. First, of course, breakfast.

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We flew out on time and landed at the lake where the boats are stashed. We got the "leaky boat," and Andrew was tasked with epoxy duty at day's end. The better boat had been claimed by another guide with two clients. I joked that I'd drawn the short straw.

We motored to the river, and Andrew waded downstream, guiding the boat as I cast the eight-weight with a mouse. Cast, strip, repeat. About an hour in, I was starting to doubt Bob's advice—every other boat was hooking up with pegged beads. Then we saw it: the wake of a large fish chasing the mouse. I cast again. Then once more. A second follow, but the fish had wised up and wouldn't commit.

I gave the mouse another half hour before switching to beads. That did the trick. I started catching fish—not quite the spectacle of the Mountain Lakes char, but steady numbers. I even got to sight-cast to a few rainbows.

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We had lunch up on the lake to avoid the bugs, then fished through the afternoon before heading back. The usual lodge rhythm followed: shower, appetizers, dinner, next day's schedule, and off to bed.

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Every guide gets at least one day helping in the kitchen.

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Tomorrow, another attempt for silvers at the coast.